Lager and Eggnog
by nachalainne
Summary: A prequel to "The Spirit of Christmas". DI Dimmock takes Sergeant Donovan out for drinks during their lunch break to ask her for a bit of advice.


"Oh, for god's sake! Just invite him out on a date, Iain! He doesn't bite."

Iain shook his head, pulling his pint closer. "You know I can't. We work together."

"Never stopped me," Sally answered dryly.

Iain casually ignored the remark. He wasn't oblivious - he knew what went on between his friends when Anderson's wife was out of town. But they weren't obvious about it, and he didn't judge them for it. And as far as it was possible, no one ever brought it up.

The four of them - he, Sally, Greg and Daniel - were uncomfortably good at keeping secrets.

"It'd never work out. He's not even out in the office - it'd be stupid to agree to a date with a co-worker."

Sally pursed her lips. "And it's stupid that he isn't. He keeps telling me that he doesn't care, that isn't not really a big deal-"

"Well, what's he supposed to do, stand up and announce in front of the Chief?"

"It'd be better than letting those old hens at the front try and set him up with with some new girl every week."

Dimmock snorted into his lager.

Unlike their silver-fox friend - the secretaries' words mind you, not his - he'd put an end to their nagging on his very first day. They'd jumped on him the moment he walked through the door, crowing and making suggestive remarks about all the curly-haired granddaughters they'd had who might be just the thing for a handsome fellow like him.

And in return, he'd immediately whipped out his wallet (a present from his darling mother, congratulating him on his recent promotion to detective sergeant) and paraded the filler photo of some handsome male model in their faces, claiming it was the love of his life - an amateur actor named Ben. He pulled together a weak backs-story about how happy they were together - no one else in the office believed a lick of it - and the old birds at the front desk never questioned him about it again.

"I think he secretly likes the attention," he answered. Greg had always been good with people - even the irritating civilians who wanted to give you their entire life story when you were trying to collect information about a murder. He was just too damn charming.

Sally rolled her eyes, tipping back the rest of her eggnog.

"But you get it, right? Why I could never act on..." He couldn't bring himself to express what he felt for his fellow DI.

"No, I don't. I think you're being stupid."

"Sally! I can't-"

She cut him off. "Yes. You can. You're just pretending you care about all these rules because you're scared he'll turn you down."

Dimmock's jaw tightened.

"Iain... I'm his best friend. And I'm your friend. Do you really think I'd tell you to go for it if you didn't stand a chance?"

The look on his face suggested that he indeed thought she might. Sally called for another round of drinks.

"If you don't make a move, I will."

Iain's eyes narrowed in confusion. "You'll what?"

"I will make a move for you," Sally repeated. "It's nearly Christmas, and I've got a box of mistletoe to hang up."

"Sally, come on."

"No. I will hang the lot of it up in Greg's office, if that's what it takes to get you to try."

Iain pouted briefly. "That's cruel. But it doesn't matter, he'd never let you near his office with a wreath, never mind mistletoe."

Donovan reached for their eggnog and lager as the pubman slid them down the bar. "I won't give him a choice," she answered matter-of-factly, passing him his beer.

"Thanks. How do you think you'll manage that?"

Sally smiled. Dimmock felt a cold shiver trickle down his spine. It was a stupid question. When Sergeant Sally Donovan wanted something done her way, that's usually how it happened.

"Sometimes you scare me," he added. "You do know that, right?"

The detective sergeant laughed. Swirling her drink in one hand, she reached out with the other and patted his arm gently. "Iain... I should scare you all the time."

Dimmock made a muffled, choking noise as he sipped his drink.

Beaming, Sally pulled her hand back. "So you'll ask him out then?"

"What? No!"

"Iain," Sally growled.

"Christ, now I understand why he's your best friend. You're both bullies."

"And yet here you are, out to lunch with me and fancying him."

Dimmock's face flushed pink. "God help me. Is Anderson the only one among us I can trust?"

"With a secret like that?" Donovan snorted. "He'd tell Greg the very next time he saw him."

"Why?"

"Thinks it's stupid to get dramatic about that kind of thing."

"Dramatic?"

"Yeah, and I agree with him."

Iain rubbed his face with his free hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment of silence, he looked up at her - resignation written across his face. "Fine... but not before Christmas." He finished off the last of his beer, pushing the glass to the middle of the table with the others. "He's got enough to deal with right now... it'd be stupid to complicate things."

"Immediately after Christmas," Sally insisted.

Iain nodded. "And you're not going to tell him. Or Daniel. No one, do you understand?"

Sally waved him off dismissively, standing up. "Of course not. I am a decent person, you know."

Iain slipped into his coat, digging his gloves out of his pockets. "If I see mistletoe hanging over my desk or Lestrade's between now and Christmas, I will demand you retract that statement."

"Deal," she answered with a smile, holding out her hand so they could shake on it.

Iain took her hand, shaking firmly. "Thanks, Sally."

"Don't mention it," she responded, steering the DI out the door. "Now let's get back before Chief puts both of us on Traffic for the rest of our lives."


End file.
